Tell Me What You Want Ch. 03

[Author's note: Hector has signed a contract with his wife Lotte to enter into 24/7 slavery under total female control. He expected to add a sexy new dimension to their bedroom games, but he soon realises just how serious about a Female-Led Relationship his Domme wife is.

Contains themes of consensual female-led-relationship, impact play. If femdom is not your thing, please browse my other stories for something more to your taste.]

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BOSS WOMAN

Hector stirred in the bed, rolling onto his back without really thinking about it, eyes snapping open at the discomfort in his rear. He rolled back onto his side quickly, reaching behind himself to run his hand over his sore buttocks. The leather cuff grazed his hip, triggering memories of the previous night.

He was naked in bed, still wearing the leather cuffs, the thick leather collar still locked securely around his neck, and a dull arche in his backside from the punishment beating meted out by his wife over the kitchen benchtop. Lotte had been very thorough, pushing much further than he was expecting, making him take each stroke as she caned his exposed backside. She had reduced him to a sobbing mess.

Bea had been there too, and his guts clenched at the recollection of the expression on her face after she had administered the final two strokes, joining in his humiliation at the request of her best friend. Bea, the woman he least expected to be into anything like this, the one with the soft voice and the quick smile; she had added her witness signature to Hector's slave contract without hesitation, then she had stepped up and beat him just as his wife had. Hector laid in bed a long time, thinking about all that, replaying the moments in his head.

In the distance, he could hear movement as his wife started her day. Reluctantly, he checked the time and realised that he needed to get up and going, otherwise he was going to be late for work. Gradually, he slid out of bed and got to his feet, taking a few careful steps to test the discomfort in his rear.

Lotte's punishment had left him with a deep ache, but as he ran his hands over his rear, he conceded that she'd bruised him rather than breaking skin. He relieved himself in the toilet, still naked, and looked at the shower. It would have to wait: he was still shackled, and getting water into the locks didn't sound like a good idea.

Instead, he went to find his wife. Hector didn't bother covering up, but only because there seemed to be little point, not that being naked until commanded to dress was the proper action of a slave. In fact, it was the last thing on his mind as he found his wife in the kitchen and called out to her.

"Morning. You're up early."

Lotte was already dressed, wearing a long, striped dress that came down to mid-calf. She had clasped it with a belt at her waist, her long black hair brushed back into an easy-to-maintain ponytail. She was sipping a coffee and tapping on the screen of her phone; she looked up at his words.

"You're up late."

"I know, I kinda took a while to get going this morning."

Hector looked at her phone. "Who're you messaging?"

"Just keeping my friend appraised of progress."

"You're telling some strange guy what you did to me last night?"

"Relax. It's all anonymous. We're all safely tucked away behind pseudonyms. He's been very helpful."

She put the phone down on the island benchtop. The slave contract was where they'd left it last night.

"It needs a wipe," Lotte observed, following his gaze, "You slobbered all over it."

"You were beating me."

Lotte drew herself up, her supple, willowy body straightening, and Hector realised with regret that she'd been awake a lot longer, boosted by coffee. His thoughts were still sluggish. She appraised him for a moment.

"I guess technically I allowed you free speech last night in bed, and I haven't rescinded it," she observed.

Hector blinked in confusion, firing back, "What?"

"We're still in familiar mode, as opposed to deferential mode."

"Deferential? I don't...."

"It's in the contract, remember? The default mode of address for your owner?"

"Lotte, hold on, before you start...."

"Ah, no," she tutted, smiling, "There is no start, not anymore, is there? You signed the contract, twenty-four seven. We're not dipping in and out of this anymore, you signed yourself over to me completely."

"Lotte, we need to talk."

"I wanted to talk last night, but you didn't seem bothered."

Hector's eyes widened.

"You'd just given me twenty lashes, I was a little bit, uh, overwrought."

"I know."

Hector hesitated, trying to process her flippant reply. He had been expecting something else from his wife: an apology for the hurt she'd inflicted, or at the very least a hint of chagrin for taking it too far. Lotte didn't intend to apologise, though, he realised.

"I didn't deserve twenty. You just did that because you could."

"I decide what you deserve. I'm the judge and the jury and the court of final appeal."

"And the executioner."

"Don't be so sour. You're up and walking about, there's no major harm done, except perhaps to your male pride."

His wife grinned slyly, then continued, "But then, that's what all this is about. A true slave has no male pride. His ego is stripped from him. He obeys, debasing himself in whatever way brings delight to his owner. That's where this is going. But you knew that, you signed the contract. It was all written down in black and white."

"I just didn't think you'd do that to me."

She shrugged, ignoring his objections. "Anyway, it was twenty-two. Bea, remember?" she said.

Hector's face darkened. He wanted to say it, but accusing his wife of playing to the audience to flatter her own ego was just going to start an awful row.

"I remember Bea, Lotte. I was wondering what the fuck she was doing there. I was wondering that intensely as she used the cane on me," he grumbled.

Lotte folded her arms, unperturbed by the strain in his voice.

"It was in the contract. You read it. Final clause."

"Huh?"

"I am allowed to unilaterally decide to loan you out to other people. That's what I did last night. You read the clause, you signed it."

"You should have told me about her. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to have an audience for our first...."

Lotte's smile widened. She began to speak over the top of him, her voice rich with humour.

"I should? Then it wouldn't be a slave contract, if I had limitations placed on me, too. The contract limits your existence, and explicitly gives me rights over you. I'm under no obligation to tell you anything. In fact, I think it works better this way."

"How the hell is that better than...?"

"Watch the tone. We're having a good discussion. I don't want to have to silence you."

Hector took a breath, trying to calm his emotions.

"How is surprising me better?" he asked.

"A slave needs to accept that his owner will give him instructions to obey that he has no prior notice of. Some of those instructions may be distasteful to him. He needs to accept her right to do that, trusting in her not to violate the terms of the contract."

"So, you have the right to blindside me?"

"Yes, and you need to learn how to accept that. A slave obeys without question and without hesitation."

"Lotte, you're being unreasonable."

His wife finished her cup and put it down on the countertop. She walked up to him, her dress swishing, smiling enigmatically. She gave him a hand gesture, motioning for him to turn around.

"Being unreasonable would be for me to leave you like this when I go through that door in two minutes. Imagine having to go to work in just your restraints."

He felt a tug at the back of his neck and then heard a click.

"You can turn around again."

He turned back to his wife. She was dangling the little padlock that she'd just taken from his collar.

"You need to trust that I won't do anything to you that has lasting repercussions to your life in general, such as your work colleagues seeing you with a slave collar. The point of the contract is that you have no say in it, at all. I decide. You're completely at my mercy, but that you need to trust in my mercy. Now, you may remove your bindings and get dressed."

She picked up her car keys and handbag, slipping the padlock inside.

"There, see? I can do mercy as well as punishment. Aren't you going to thank me?"

His wife looked up at him with a mocking smile, her face beautiful, radiating confidence, and despite himself, Hector felt his manhood began to stiffen. His wife noticed it too.

"Well?"

"Thank you," Hector grunted.

"Thank you, what?"

"Uh, thank you, Mistress."

Lotte beamed up at him.

"Good boy. I didn't want to have to give you a reprimand. You're really starting to get into the swing of this."

She went up on tiptoes, her lips pressing against his. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he responded with a full-throated kiss, his erection swelling.

Lotte broke off, swatting his shaft playfully, and Hector felt his heart lift to see her smile. Yes, he realised, there were new rules now, but Lotte was still his wife.

"You're making this all about sex," she murmured, "Is that going to interfere with your training?"

"I don't know," Hector replied, grinning at his wife.

She grasped his manhood and gave it a squeeze.

"It's always about sex for you. I think you could be a nightmare to train."

She released him then and stepped back, giving him a good look up and down.

"I just want to make sure I've got something to remember during the day," she explained, then shrugged, heading for the door.

"Be home early tonight," she called over her shoulder.

"Why?" Hector asked.

"The next phase of your training programme. It's all mapped out."

"Uh, can I see the training programme?"

His wife gave an abrupt laugh, replying, "Of course not. The slave isn't permitted."

"Why?" Hector countered.

"It's all part of the training plan," Lotte told him, shrugging nonchalantly.

Hector regarded her for a moment, working out his next move.

"Where did you get this plan?" he asked.

"Oh, so you can hunt it down? My friend sent me a few pointers for training programmes you can download off the net. Turns out there are dozens, so good luck with that."

The mocking tone of her voice wasn't what gave him pause.

"I'm being trained from something you just downloaded?" he said, "I don't think it works like that, not in real life."

Lotte folded her arms over her chest, amused.

"Oh, and why not?"

"It's about people, what they want. It's about how we change our relationship, you and me. It's not just a cookie-cutter manual you go through to make a slave."

Lotte raised an eyebrow and then shook her head slowly.

"Men," she murmured, "You all believe you're special unique snowflakes. Let's see how you go. I bet you'll fall into line."

Before he could say anything further, she was gone, leaving him standing naked and alone in the kitchen. Slowly, he began to unbuckle his bindings. He looked across at the wall clock and startled. He needed to get a move on to avoid being late for work.

---

The traffic seemed to be a nightmare, but then again maybe it was just him. It felt utterly surreal that the last time he'd driven to work he'd been a free man, an equal partner in his marriage, able to make his own choices without someone else's authorisation. Yesterday, he'd driven to work after a breathless conversation with Lotte about the contract, and now here he was, twenty-four hours later with the contract signed and under the permanent ownership of his wife.

No-one would be able to tell the difference, but he'd been changed. For one thing, his drive to work was punctuated by twinges of pain as he shifted his bruised backside in his seat. But the change was more profound than that, and it made him catch his breath. Sure, it had been a rocky start, but there were always going to be bumps along the way as they got to understand the ins and outs of a twenty-four seven dominance relationship.

His wife had looked him in the eyes and told him that she wasn't playing anymore, that this was real. He reacted immediately, his erection swelling as he remembered the expression on her face and felt that thrill again. They were actually doing it. Lotte had got carried away, but it had been the exuberance at making the change, then the desire to show her best friend what she'd turned her husband into. Lotte had gotten herself caught up in the moment, and Hector had to admit to himself that he had too. Being disciplined in front of Bea had been unbearable but also so exquisite. He had never felt so humiliated by his wife. Even now, the next morning, it sent fireworks off in his head.

Only when he pulled into the carpark at work, did the reality hit him. He had been naked, his bottom striped as he howled and sobbed, in front of the woman who he would now have to face. He remembered her betrayal as she ordered an extra two strokes of the cane because he'd had the temerity to try and speak to her. That still rankled; Bea hadn't needed to do that.

But it was more than that. Bea and Lotte had been plotting how to enslave him together, and Bea hadn't mentioned any of it. She had never revealed her role in the planning. He recalled her eagerness as they'd discussed their plans for the upcoming weekend; looking back in hindsight, she'd been excited, and now Hector knew why. Bea had been looking forward to Hector signing his rights away and becoming his wife's plaything as much as Lotte had. She had wanted to give him those last two punishment strokes, he realised. She'd wanted to make him her plaything too.

He rode the elevator up to his floor, pondering those last few minutes of the punishment beating, and a sourness began to surface. He hadn't asked for Bea's attendance, had howled as she struck him as much from the indignity as from the pain. To be caned by Bea had been so much more degrading than being punished by his own wife. She had deliberately hidden the truth from him, unlike Lotte who had discussed everything she intended to do. He needed to have a talk with Bea in private, but the thought of having to face her after she had been the one to punish him last night filled him with dread.

The elevator doors opened and he strode onto the floor, twenty minutes late. Scanning around the office, he could see Samara and Paulo, but Bea's chair was empty. He sat down at his desk with a little relief at not having to greet her. The usual cheery 'Good morning' would have felt forced. She would have been able to look at him and know exactly what she'd done to him, the power she had wielded with the cane in her hand. At work, Hector had seniority and Bea generally did what he told her: the power dynamic between them was well established. To have it reversed in his own kitchen had been the final twist of the knife on top of the humiliation.

He made his way through his work, looking up at around ten o'clock to see the door to his boss's office swing open and Bea emerge. A message flashed up on his screen requesting his presence, and it occurred to him that she would be doing one-one-ones today in preparation for her going off to her secondment. She'd be pulling everyone into her office.

As he rose from his chair, he felt the flutter of nerves. She was going to have to second someone into her job while she was away, and Hector was the obvious choice. He was the most experienced person in the team, he knew the job backwards and he was due a promotion. What better way to show he had the skills? Despite the events of the previous night, he tried to calm himself so that he could walk into her office with a cool, calm demeanour, giving her the reassurance that she'd made the right choice. He knocked on her office door.

"Come in."

Hector stepped into the office.

"Hector, good of you to join us."

"Sorry Claire, I was caught up. The traffic was a nightmare."

"Take a seat."

Hector lowered himself gently into the seat opposite her desk, noting the frown on her face.

"Are you injured or something?" she asked.

"No, I'm good. Just a little stiff."

He arranged himself on the seat, his tender buttocks protesting the hard plastic surface. His boss was watching him quizzically, and for a moment, Hector had the awful feeling that Claire knew why he was stiff. Somehow, she'd been able to see through his excuse and had guessed that he'd allowed himself to be beaten by his wife over an imaginary infringement she'd concocted for her own amusement. Or, and this sent a shiver right through him: Bea had told her about it just now in their catch-up.

"I'll just make this quick then. The fleet requisition, did you go through the new car models?"

"Uh, yeah. That's all done."

"And the numbers are in to finance?"

"Not yet, I'm still waiting for quotes."

"Ah, okay. I was hoping you'd have gotten to that before today. Seems like it's going to be hanging over."

"Look, it's no problem. I can get the loose ends wrapped up, easy. I've got plenty of capacity to take on new things."

Hector tried to strike the proper balance between eagerness to step up and confidence that no balls would be dropped. He wanted his boss to feel that he was the safe pair of hands.

"Okay, if you can get that over to Beatrice, that would be great."

Hector blinked. "Uh, Bea? Why?"

"She's going to be looking after things while I'm on secondment. Just make sure she's looped into what you're doing, as you would with me."

Hector's mouth hung open. He forced himself to close it, to assume a neutral expression.

"So, she's going to be running things?"

"Just while I'm away. Look, I guess that maybe you wanted to step up too?"

Hector choked back the reply that was forming in his mind. He wanted to say that yes, he'd expected to step up, to get a chance at running the department, that he had been waiting a long time for the chance, that she wasn't being fair.

In the end the only words that came out of his mouth were, "I'd hoped, yes."

"Maybe next time, okay? Now, can you send Paulo in if you see him, please? Thanks."

For a second, Hector didn't move, stunned at his abrupt dismissal. He forced himself up, to the door, out of her office. So, Bea had got the job, even though she'd only been working here a year. Hector felt overlooked, but he was standing in the middle of the office, in full view. He twisted his mouth into a smile and went to find Paulo, as ordered.

The morning dragged. There was no sign of the quotes he'd requested, nor any word from his wife. Plus, his backside ached. On top of that, he kept glimpsing Bea pulling people into meeting rooms one by one, steadily assuming command, the command that should have been his. As soon as the clock turned to midday, he headed into the break room to try and get some lunch.

Mercifully, it was early, so he was alone, spooning through a rice dish, moving it around on his plate, not really hungry. The only comfort was that he'd been able to avoid Bea all morning, easy enough to do with her busy in the meeting rooms; he really couldn't face making conversation with her right now.

"Heck, there you are."

Of course: there was nowhere to hide, she'd have tracked him down eventually.

"Bea."

He looked up from his rice to see his friend grinning at him, practically jumping up and down on the spot.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she hissed, excitedly.

"Well, you found me."

"Have you heard? Claire pulled me into her office first thing. She asked me to take over while she was gone. She wants to see if I can handle things."

He could see the thrill in her expression, to have been given the opportunity to prove herself. Hector's heart lifted, an instinctive reaction to seeing Bea's pretty face so animated, but then he soured as the resentment kicked back in.